


No Secrets

by commissionedby



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Behavioral Analysis Unit (Criminal Minds), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Protection, Slow Burn, casefic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-06-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:28:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23939158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/commissionedby/pseuds/commissionedby
Summary: Y/N, a member of the BAU team, is having some personal issues that unexpectedly bleed into one of the BAU's cases. Can Y/N crack the case, and decipher her newfound feelings for her coworker, Dr. Reid, before it's too late?TW: Mentions of stalking
Relationships: Spencer Reid & Reader, Spencer Reid/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 84





	1. Body Language

_Tense. Release. Tense. Release. Tense. Release._

Spencer didn’t know how long he had been watching your jaw clench. From where he sat on the jet, if he looked straight ahead, he had a perfect view of the left side of your face. As if mesmerized, he watched the movements of the muscles under your skin at the tail of your brow, your cheekbone, the joint of your jaw.

It wasn’t as though he’d never seen you engage in this particular mannerism, he realized idly. He’d seen you do it when mulling over the details of a particularly difficult case. When preparing to interrogate an aggressive unsub, or when steeling yourself to deliver bad news to a pair of hopeful, expectant parents. A slight furrow appeared in his brow.

Morgan spoke up from the seat across from him.

“See something you like, pretty boy?” A slight smile played across his face.

Spencer quickly averted his eyes. “No, I just—” He cleared his throat awkwardly, unable to formulate words that could follow the fast track on which his brain had been.

“I’m just teasing. I can tell you’re…concerned.” Spencer found that Morgan’s gaze mirrored his own feelings.

“She—” Spencer dropped his voice to a low murmur. He knew you’d been wide awake the entire flight, and since he didn’t even really know how to finish his sentence, he didn’t want you to overhear.

“Doesn’t look like she wants to go back,” Morgan finished. This time, he didn’t have anything to say as Spencer’s eyes drifted back to you.

“Go over there, would you, kid?” Without giving the decision as much thought as he normally would, Spencer rose from his seat.

“And hey—” Morgan’s hand caught his forearm. “No profiling. Be straight with her, you’re her friend.”

Spencer nodded, making the couple of strides over to the seat across from you. Without saying anything, he took it. You looked up, seeing the familiar furrow in his brow that quickly melted into a look of surprise.

Along with the tears in your eyes, there was a warning. _Don’t ask,_ your gaze threatened. He balked momentarily.

“Y/n,” he started. His voice came softer than you expected, and his expression was gentle, but still a bit apprehensive.

You felt your eyes brimming further at his concern, and the last thing you wanted was to cry, right here, right now, on this jet with these people. Vulnerability was not in your professional vocabulary, but if there was one person on the team who could bring it out in you, it was Spencer. You didn’t know why this was, nor did you care to explore it. He cared about you, you cared about him. It was that simple—everyone on the BAU team had a close bond with each other, the work necessitated it. No secrets.

There was no rule against keeping secrets from yourself.

“Spencer, I can’t—I don’t….” You leaned back in your seat and looked at the ceiling of the jet, hoping the angle and the lack of eye contact would keep your tears at bay. “I don’t know how to talk about this right now.”

“Y/n,” he used your name again, and you released the tension you didn’t know you had been holding in your jaw. “You don’t have to talk about anything.”

You felt the tension in the rest of your body release.

He continued. “I noticed from your body language…I just came over here to see if you were okay.”

You smiled through your diminishing tears, taking in and releasing a deep breath. “No profiling,” you said.

“I—I didn’t, I wasn’t, I just—you display a mannerism of clenching your jaw, you—you tense and release it repetitively, usually when you have to do something you don’t want to do, or you’re thinking intently, trying to figure something out. I figured it was a reflective action, but it also betrays that you’re feeling a sense of dread—”

“Reid.” You interrupted. When he rambled, there was no telling how long he could go on, and you had already established you didn’t want to discuss what he was about to uncover. But you had never heard him talk like that about you, or anyone else the two of you knew personally, for that matter. A strange sensation curled in the pit of your stomach. He made you feel like some kind of science experiment, but you weren’t resentful at the thought.

“Sorry.” His intensity didn’t diminish as he continued. “Whatever it is, you don’t have to go through it alone. The team—I—we care about you.”

His eye contact was nothing but genuine concern, empathy, but it suddenly felt stifling. You looked down, seeing his hand on your knee before you felt it. His gaze followed yours. Removing his hand quickly, Spencer made to stand up.

“Spence?” Your voice sounded more questioning, more plaintive than you had meant it. “I—would you sit next to me? I could use a shoulder to sleep on.”

 _I could write poetry about the way his face softens,_ you thought, almost involuntarily. As he shifted his position to the seat next to you, you shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. _This is Reid. Reid, who just spouted out an observation of your behavior like it was going to get published in a behavioral science journal._

You tentatively rested your head on his shoulder as he settled in with a book, curling up on the seat next to him in an honest attempt to get some sleep. His jacket was corduroy, and you knew you’d pay for the unprecedented softness in the form of its lines indented in your cheek when you woke up. But that was neither here nor there. Comforted by the conversation, the corduroy, and Reid’s gentle scent, a curious mixture of pine and cinnamon, you began to drift into a light sleep.

In Spencer’s absence, JJ had taken the seat across from Morgan.

“Look,” she murmured to him, a faint smile in her eyes. You looked serene as you slept, much younger and less controlled. Your head rested, now, in the crook of Spencer’s elbow as he propped up his book.

Morgan twisted in his chair, taking the two of you in. “Well, would you look at that,” he remarked playfully.

“It’s sweet,” JJ said. “She’s good for him.”

“She was upset about something,” Morgan offered. “If anyone could get to the bottom of it, it’d be him.”

You stirred gently in the haze of your sleep. Reflexively, Spencer placed his free hand on your head, brushing your hair out of your face. The two observers at the other end of the jet shared a knowing look.


	2. Airplane Mode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TW: Brief mentions of stalking, some adult language.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was guilt, followed closely by dread. You shouldn’t have been thinking about Reid like that, not with everything that was going on. You were hardly in a place to face those kinds of emotions about someone, least of all your compassionate-to-a-fault coworker.

And then there was the dread.

Right before you left on this case, you had ended a short-term relationship with Jacob, a guy you dated for a couple of months. There were a few red flags in the relationship, and your suspicions had been confirmed when you started to receive the texts.

They came in slowly at first, then became an onslaught, each one nastier and more threatening than the last. You ignored them all, focusing on the case instead. There had been young girls, college age, being kidnapped; surely that was much more important than the danger you potentially faced? Now, you weren’t so sure. This guy knew where you lived, and you had an impending sense that you were returning to the belly of the beast.

Feeling sick to your stomach, you opened your eyes and pulled your face away from Reid’s shoulder. At least the sleep had been nice while it lasted; you hadn’t slept as well in weeks. You rubbed your cheek where it had been pressed against Reid’s shoulder; true to your prediction, you could feel the texture of corduroy on your skin.

“I’m glad you got some sleep, you were out like a light,” Reid murmured without taking his eyes off the page. He appeared to be reading a different book than the one he’d been reading before you went to sleep.

“It was all thanks to your terribly comfortable shoulder, Dr. Reid, though I’m afraid I didn’t come away unscathed,” you quipped.

This got his attention; seemingly without thinking, he turned to you, brushing his fingertips across the red, raised pattern on your cheekbone. He watched the rest of your skin flush to match and, surprisingly, didn’t pull away. He didn’t notice your blush and instead seemed to be searching for something in your gaze, perhaps expecting you to have your guard down since you had just woken up.

The moment was broken by the juddering of the jet in the air. You pulled away abruptly.

“We’re landing,” you muttered, gathering your things. He merely nodded, immersing himself again in his book.

As the wheels hit the ground, you did the thing you’d been dreading most: you took your phone off airplane mode. As subtly as you could, you turned your body towards the window and away from Reid, whose gaze on you was palpable. You held your phone in your hand as tightly as you could to mask the repetitive buzzing. _One, two, three…_ You quickly lost count. They were all from him.

You waited until it stopped, and you could only bring yourself to read the message preview of the last one, which simply said, “I’ll be waiting for you.” It was exactly what you had been dreading.

 _There it is again_ , Reid noticed. _Tense, release, tense, release._ Although you had turned away from him, he could see the unconscious movement at your temple. It was in time with the faint vibrations he could hear from your phone, vibrations he deduced you were trying to muffle. He resisted the urge to read more into the situation. Morgan’s reminder floated through his brain: _No profiling_. He took a deep breath. _You trust her. If she’s in trouble, if there’s something she needs from you, she’ll ask._

You weighed your options. Waiting until you were home to read the messages was unthinkable; you would be knowingly walking into a dangerous situation. If you read them once you got back inside the BAU office, you ran the risk of being visibly upset in front of everyone, a possibility you were still vehemently resisting. If you read them here, now, quickly, you could take your time to process on your way into the building in as much solitude as the situation allowed.

Steeling yourself, you unlocked your phone and scrolled through. A lot of curse words, a lot of graphic sexual terms. Objectification was far from your favorite thing in the world, but you could deal with that. However, the last three messages were the most troubling.

_Did you forget I know where you live, you bitch? You have to come home eventually._

_You always do. And when you do, you’d better be watching your back. Have that little gun of yours at the ready._

_I’ll be waiting for you._

“Y/n?” Reid’s voice interrupted your thoughts.

“God, Reid—” you began exasperatedly. He cut you off.

“You’re the only one left on the jet, y/n. You’ve been sitting there for a minute or so. I just didn’t want you to get left behind.”

You grabbed your go bag from the floor and followed him off the jet. He didn’t speak to you at all on the walk in to the BAU, but he did keep shooting you looks. You ignored them. You needed to think, but your brain went to the place you least expected, least desired it to go.

 _I can trust Reid, can’t I?_ Something in you wanted it, so badly, to be true. _Don’t be a sucker, y/n. Just because you sleep on a man’s shoulder doesn’t mean you can trust him. You can’t trust anyone if you don’t want them to look at you differently because of this. He’ll have to tell Hotch, and they’ll need to take a bunch of precautions, and I don’t want to be the victim._

But at the same time, even with your gun and your badge and all your training, you were so, so scared to go home. Something about the whole situation felt wrong, and you couldn’t ignore your instincts. If you were going to verbalize them, the man holding the door for you was your best available audience.

“Reid?” You began hesitantly. “Can I—can I show you something?”

“Of course, Y/n.” He followed you into the building, glancing at you once more. “Is—would you prefer privacy?”

You nodded. Now more than ever, the tears threatened to spill from your eyes. You willed yourself to keep it together, at least until the story was told.

“Do some paperwork at your desk until Hotch and Rossi are gone. When they leave, we’ll go into Hotch’s office, okay?”

And that was how you found yourself, far too late at night, crying at your boss’s desk when he wasn’t even in the building. You would have put money on the fact that you’d end up crying in there at some point, but you never thought it would be quite like this.

Thankfully, Spencer seemed to understand, and focused mainly on you, not asking any of the questions about Jacob you’d dreaded. You blamed yourself, with all your knowledge as a profiler, for being so stupid as to let this man in.

“So he hasn’t made any specific threats of violence against you?” He asked matter-of-factly.

“No, he just said—”

“That he’s waiting for you. And you think he’s being true to his word.”

You appreciated Spencer’s steadiness, his pragmatic nature. He wanted to know if there was anything that would warrant calling the police outright; other than that, he just wanted to make sure you were safe.

“He…he’s scary. I know that’s not the right word, not very descriptive, but I don’t know how to describe it better than that. He knew things about me…sometimes he remembered things that most people wouldn’t remember, not about someone they were only dating for a month or two. And occasionally he would say things about me that I didn’t even remember telling him at all. And when I would question it, he would just give me this look…I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m telling you this,” you trailed off. “This really isn’t like me, to tell this many details about my personal life. I…I don’t want you to feel obligated to get involved, or to give me advice, I just needed to tell someone.”

“Y/n,” Spencer knelt down beside where you were seated in the chair. In any other context, the gesture would have seemed incredibly odd, as if he were treating you like a child, but now it was comforting.

“This isn’t petty, personal drama. If this man is waiting at your apartment, you’re in danger. And I’m your friend. The bare minimum of our relationship is that I should be able to help you if you feel unsafe, that I care about your basic well-being. You don’t have to feel guilty for telling me.”

His eyes shone in the dim light coming through the blinds of Hotch’s office.

“Do you want me to take you home?” You nodded, following him as he crossed to the door.


	3. Stay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Y/n finally makes her way home, where what she fears awaits her. Luckily, she has someone there to help her, someone who she maybe doesn't want to leave at the end of the night.

“Y/n?” You hadn’t even realized you’d been pacing back and forth in the elevator until Spencer said your name. You turned to face him, a wild look in your eyes. He took you gently by the shoulders.

“Hey, look, it’s going to be okay. We’re both trained, we both have our guns, and we don’t even know if he’s going to be there—” He was interrupted by the ding of the elevator, the doors opening. You steeled yourself, turning to face the familiar hall of your apartment floor. 

Before you even stepped out of the elevator, you could see a figure outside your door at the end of the hall.

“Spence,” you breathed. That was all the warning he got before you took off out of the elevator at a brisk pace, heading straight for your apartment.

As you got closer, you began to make out his face in the dim lighting of the hallway. _Christ,_ you thought, _I’m an FBI agent, I should really be living in an apartment with better security._

“Jacob,” you called, your voice louder than you intended. After all the worrying, you just wanted to get this over with, and with Reid behind you, you felt much more confident, though you hadn’t discussed a plan.

Reid, for his part, had decided to devise a plan of his own. He started down the hall in the opposite direction, loitering outside a random door as if he did live there and was searching for his keys, all while praying the inhabitants of 412 would stay inside. As much as he knew you were scared, he also knew you needed to have this confrontation with Jacob alone. If he was clearly there to protect you, Jacob would just wait until you were alone. He listened intently for Jacob’s voice, which came hushed at first.

“Y/n,” he began in a frantic, strangled whisper. “I just came to talk. Can I come in?”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Jacob,” you said bluntly. “It’s over. Please, just leave me alone—you’ve been harassing me for a week now—”

“Harassing?” His voice took on an edgy, raspy tone that wasn’t present moments before. It was positively dangerous. Spencer, yards away and still unseen, felt his hand drift towards his gun.

“If you think this is harassment, just you wait, beautiful. And if you think harassment is the worst I can do, you’re in for a treat. I am not letting you go so easily. Now, are you going to let me in, or am I going to have to make you?”

You noticed his hand had remained in the pocket of his hoodie this entire time, its angle suspicious. Your hand went to your hip, where your gun was still holstered, but you hesitated. Nothing good would come of you pulling your gun on him presumptuously, so you felt you had no better option but to wait.

Mistake. He took advantage of your downcast gaze and moved swiftly, one hand entangling itself in your hair, and the other pulling out the gun and holding it to your temple. You could feel the cold metal moving against your skin as you clenched your jaw.

“Oh, so now we’re nervous, huh?” He laughed callously. “Here’s what we’re gonna do—”

“Let me stop you right there.” A steady voice came from behind you. _Spencer, thank God._ You couldn’t see him, but from the way Jacob’s grip on you relaxed immediately, you assumed he had his gun in one hand, badge in the other.

Now you wasted no time, whipping your gun out and forcing it to Jacob’s temple.

“Get the fuck out of here. The next time I see you in this building, I will shoot you on sight, so help me God. And don’t think for a second I won’t be telling the local police everything I know about you. I’ll be surprised if you can even still live in this city after the restraining order I’m going to get on you. Now leave. I’m not going to say it again.”

Wordlessly, he turned, brushed past you and Spencer, and disappeared down the hall. You waited until his figure was gone before pulling out your keys. It took several tries to get them into the door; you realized dimly that your hands were shaking.

Spencer, still behind you, placed a warm hand on the small of your back, using his free hand to unlock the door for you. He led you in, turning the lights on and closing and locking the door behind you.

You put your go back on your kitchen island and leaned against it, rubbing your temples with your hands.

“I can’t believe I let him catch me off guard like that, I—” You looked up at Spencer, still practically in the doorway, brown eyes now with darker than usual shadows, filled with concern.

“Thank you, Reid. I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me, I—really, I’m fine.”

“You know you need to tell the police,” he said with a tinge of apology in his voice.

“They’re not going to do anything about it, Reid, I know the law. I wouldn’t be surprised if his weapon is legal, and he never made any specific threats against me—”

“They need a record of it, y/n, in case he does do anything they _can_ actually do something about. You should know that. And—” he cut himself off abruptly.

“And what, Reid?”

“You need to—Hotch needs to know.”

This was the conversation you had been dreading. This wasn’t happening, telling Hotch was not an option. Your words came out louder, harsher than you intended them to.

“I’m not about to do that, Reid. It’s bad enough that _you_ know. He’s gone, and I threatened him with my gun, for Christ’s sake, he—he didn’t even know for sure that I had a gun until I just whipped it out. I really don’t think that he’s going to come back and I’m fine, Reid, I’m fine and thank you for your help, but if you’d noticed, I handled the situation just fine. This doesn’t need to go any further than what happened tonight.”

The look on Spencer’s face was foreign to you. His eyes narrowed, and his expression was cold.

“You handled it just fine? What would have happened if I hadn’t shocked him away from you?!”

You had never heard him raise his voice before, either. His voice rang almost shrilly through your kitchen, and your headache made you wince at the sound. He spoke again, calmer.

“Y/n, a man has physically and verbally threatened you and shown up to your apartment to make good on those promises. Maybe that’s something that you can ignore, but I can’t. If you don’t go to the police, and if you don’t tell Hotch, I will.”

You leveled your gaze with his. He looked resolute, stubborn even, and this filled your small frame with even more tension. Then you noticed his expression begin to shift; his brow furrowing, a slight frown appearing, his posture beginning to crumple, to incline towards you. You dropped your gaze to the floor.

 _He’s worried about you._ That voice in your head from earlier on the plane, the one that revealed more affection for Spencer than you were otherwise inclined to do, was back, goddamn her. _He cares, and you should let him. You’ve been under emotional duress for the past couple hours, and if Jacob does do something else—”_

“You’re right,” you spoke suddenly, without shifting your gaze. You turned your attention to your go bag, unzipping it, looking for aspirin for your head. “When he does escalate, they’ll need something on his record to nail him.”

“Your aspirin is in the top left pocket,” he said lightly, stepping closer. You found it before you even registered what he said, pulling a half-drank bottle of water out with it. 

“I—how did you—” You breathed out an uncertain laugh, tossing the pills in your mouth and washing them down with the water.

He replied in the same breath, anticipating your question. “You put it there on the jet, the last time you took some. And you’ve been rubbing your temples since you’ve come inside, which indicates a headache, especially when paired with the amount of stress-induced jaw-clenching you’ve been doing for at least the past twenty-four hours. Not to mention Jacob’s grip on your hair. And then, from crying earlier, you’re dehydrated—”

“Spence, please—” you turned to him abruptly; the last thing you wanted was for him to recount your vulnerability. You had miscalculated how close he’d been standing, though, and found your back flush to the island and your front dangerously close to touching his. You automatically raised your hands in front of your chest, and after a moment during which he didn’t move away, having been similarly caught off-guard, you placed them gently on his.

“I—I mean, thank you.” You looked at your hands instead of up, into his eyes. “And I’m sorry, for lashing out at you. I guess sometimes I’m afraid of seeming weak, and I’m the newest to the BAU and the youngest and I just don’t want anyone to see me like that.”

To your ultimate surprise, he didn’t say a word. Instead, he enveloped you in a hug. You’d never seen Spencer hug anyone as long as you’d known him, and he’d definitely never hugged you. Despite this, the contact was comfortable, familiar. He gently rubbed your back, ghosting his fingertips over your shoulder blades. One hand came to rest on the middle of your back, the other at the back of your head. You had your arms wrapped tightly around his waist, and you could hear his heartbeat through his chest. You couldn’t help the slight shiver that ran down your spine as he gently stroked your hair a couple of times.

Suddenly, you were struck with the desire to ask him to stay. For what, you weren’t sure. You expected yourself to want to be alone in this situation, but Spencer’s presence had steadied you, and you didn’t want him to leave and take away the sense of calm he’d brought with him. It was something you hadn’t felt in a long time. But your guilt won you over, and you decided you’d already asked enough of him for one night.

Spencer spoke, still holding you, and you could feel the vibrations of it in his chest.

“I know you don’t want to ask, but is there anything else I can do for you? I’m offering,” he added upon seeing the look of protest on your face as you pulled away.

“Would you come to the police station with me tomorrow?”

“Of course. I’ll pick you up. Call me when you wake up, and please, y/n, try to get some sleep. If you can’t sleep, you know how to reach me. I’m not going to leave you alone.”

“Spence, thank you. Really, I…Thank you.”

“Of course, y/n.”

With that, he was out the door, and you were alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The amount of physical touch written into this fic is clearly correlated with just how touch starved I am.  
> *sighs in quarantine*  
> Leave me a comment, I'm dying for them! Let me know what you think of my characterization, it's my favorite part of writing!  
> Also, I take requests at @80sgothgirl over on tumblr.  
> Thanks for reading, more to come soon!


	4. Safe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reader and Spencer still can't seem to leave each other alone, but are other members of the BAU starting to catch on?

You didn’t know how you managed to sleep, but before you knew it, it was morning. Your trip to the police station with Spencer went exactly as you expected; nothing they could do but make a record in case you decided you wanted to file a restraining order. Now, however, came the hard part.

You roughly pushed back the pieces of hair that framed your face, teeth worrying at your bottom lip. You raised your phone to your ear as it connected to the number you had on speed dial.

“Hotchner,” came the expected reply from the other end. “Y/n, is everything okay?”

“Yes, sir.” You suddenly felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you. Your gaze shifted, landing on Spencer, who merely cocked an eyebrow from the driver’s seat of the car. “I—I mean, I’m not in any kind of trouble. I’ve…just been to the local police, I had to file a report about someone who’s been harassing me. I just know it’s important for you to know if something like this happens, so…I called, and I can tell you any details you need to know—”

“Y/n,” Hotch cut you off. “Thank you for telling me, even if it is just protocol. I’ll contact the police station for the details I need, I wouldn’t want you to go through it all again.”

You sighed with relief. “Thank you, sir—”

“Y/n, I don’t know how long this was going on, but please remember we’re here for you. You’re safe with us. Now please, use your time off to get some rest.”

“Thank you again, sir. I’m sure I’ll see you soon.” You hung up and rested your phone in your lap. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on you, but you didn’t look up, and neither of you said anything for a few moments. Finally, it was Spencer who broke the silence.

“He’s right, you know.”

“I’m sorry?” It hadn’t occurred to you that in such close quarters, Reid heard everything Hotch had said.

“You are. Safe with us.”

“I know, Spence.”

He turned his attention to the road.

“Should I take you home?”

“Yes, please.”

Almost as soon as you exited the passenger side of Spencer’s car, his phone rang with a call from the BAU’s other resident genius, Penelope Garcia.

“Yeah, Garcia?” He answered routinely, assuming she was summoning him to the office for another case.

“Why did y/n just file a police report?” Her voice sounded almost stern, so Spencer decided not to waste time asking how she found out, even in such a short amount of time. She had her ways. He shifted to an equally important question.

“Why are you asking me?”

“She really only trusts you, boy wonder.”

“The information you’re asking me for is in that police report, Garcia, and I know you’ve already read it. Why are you really calling me?” Spencer tried not to let the hint of smugness he felt at turning the tables on her creep into his voice.

“Oh, my lovely genius, I know you’re not ready to talk about the real reason I’m calling. I just want to know if she’s okay?”

Heat crept over the back of his neck, up to the tips of his ears, across his cheeks. Even while telling himself it was absolutely illogical, Spencer found himself praying that Garcia couldn’t somehow sense this development through the phone.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, his voice deepening slightly. “I just dropped her off at home.” He looked up at her building, resisting the urge to find her apartment window, beneath which he was still sitting in his parked car. “We keep telling her we’ll keep her safe, and I just hope she’s listening.”

“We will,” Garcia insisted. “We always do. Take care of…yourself.”

“Bye, Garcia.” Just as you had done not an hour earlier, he dropped his phone in his lap and stared straight ahead. He knew what Garcia had meant to say, and he wondered how much longer he could pretend that there wasn’t a part of him that wanted so badly to take care of you.

Before he even knew what he was doing, he was back on his phone, dialing your number. You picked up quickly, cutting the first ring short, which didn’t give Spencer much time to think about what he was going to say.

“Y/n, I—I’m still outside, I got tied up in a phone call, and I know it’s kind of weird but I just have—had a feeling, and I…are you sure you’re okay?” Even as he spoke he gently drummed his free fist on his forehead, cursing himself for sounding so awkward and painfully out of character.

“Spencer…do you want to come inside?” He couldn’t quite read your tone.

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he said, hanging up and immediately beginning to second-guess himself. _Why can’t you leave her alone? You both have some time off, you should let her take advantage of it, given all she’s been through. And you should take advantage of it too, it’s not like you, to want to spend so much time with one person—_

His racing thoughts brought him right to your apartment door, which you opened before he even knocked.

“Hi,” he said softly, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Hi yourself,” you replied, stepping aside to let him enter your apartment. “Who was on the phone?”

“Garcia.” You led him to your living room, your brow furrowing as you took a seat on the couch.

“Not another case?”

“No, she—she was asking about you. Don’t ask me how, but she knows where we were this morning.”

“I’m not surprised. Are you going to sit?”

Spencer was still standing, looking a bit lost, on the threshold of your living room. He gave his head a small shake, his nose twitching gently, as he shrugged his messenger bag over his head and took a seat next to you on your couch.

“I thought you might be upset about it.”

You shrugged, settling into your position beside him. “Truth is, I’m getting a little bit tired of trying to deal with everything on my own. That’s why I asked you if you wanted to come back up, because I don’t…want to be alone.”

Spencer nodded, hazel eyes wide. He understood more than you knew.

“So, if you’re not doing anything better with your time off,” you continued, “do you want to just like…watch a movie?”

You were relieved when Spencer smiled. “I would, y/n.”

You settled on _Blade Runner_ ; for some reason scifi films had always been comforting to you, and Spencer was more than happy to point out inaccuracies, as well as discrepancies between the many iterations of the film and the novel on which it was based. It was in this environment that you found yourself thoroughly comforted and falling asleep. As you dozed, your head inched closer and closer to Spencer’s shoulder, not unlike how you had been on the jet barely 24 hours ago.

However, he surprised you by pulling you down to rest on his lap. You let him guide you, then turned over onto your back, your head resting on his thigh, so you could look up at him.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Helping you relax,” he said, praying the simplicity of his response covered the rush he felt at your physical closeness. He forced himself to acknowledge that this was nothing out of the ordinary, that you had slept on his shoulder on the jet a day ago, that it didn’t, it couldn’t, mean anything.

You made that harder for him to believe when you turned back over to face the television screen, placing a hand on his thigh underneath your cheek and curling your body up beside him. You hoped against hope that Spencer was unaware that your warmth was due to the way your full body flushed at contact with his.

Despite the anxiety you unknowingly shared, neither of you saw the end of the movie; it was in these positions that you drifted off to sleep, putting your time off to the use that both Hotch and Garcia had suggested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wowowow writing phone conversations is hard! Comments still mean the world to me, so please leave me any thoughts you have below,or come visit me at 80sgothgirl on tumblr. I hope y'all like this chapter, and the case of this fic should be starting in the next!


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